I Hate Being Scared…I Am So NOT Seeing Evil Dead!

So today’s bloggary is about a casual conversation that one of my co-workers and I had about how EXCITED he was to see the Evil Dead remake and how I responded…like as in HELL NO I am not watching that freakin’ movie…AGAIN!  It was a scary ass mistake the first time I saw it…in the 80’s… with all of my “Aqua Netted” friends huddled together so close that we looked like a huge ol’ acid washed hedgehog that were emanating the stench of Love’s Baby Soft from all of the perspiration that was oozing off of us...because WE WERE SCARED SHIT LESS!  Let’s just say that I usually learn from my mistakes (well my husband is the anomaly here but that is another blog post(s) entirely! HA!)  and I am totally not repeating that horrific one…the visual alone is terrifying enough to tell you why I am not re-living that crap over again!  So let’s just cut to the chase shall we?  OK…here we go…I am NOT going to go to a horror flick with the understanding that I am going to get the SHIT scared out of me EVER!   I can safely say that I know exactly how it is going to go down…I am going to be hiding underneath my jacket, with my fingers in my ears, trying to still eat popcorn (I have to eat it while it’s still warm…cold popcorn sucks…just sayin’…) all the while humming the “Just Keep On Swimming” song from Finding Nemo, like an escapee from crazy town!  Sorry ain’t happenin’!   I cannot lie to all of you in blogger land…I am a sorry ass wimp when it comes to any type of movie that has any blood, guts, or body parts flying out of cabins, graves, port-o-potties, or whatever edifice some crazy whack job of a producer thought would be “entertaining” to fly out of!  Don’t get me started on the “great” THX surround sound and the 3D effects that make the delusional lunatic (that is chasing some poor fool down like he is some crazy voodoo priest going after his sacrificial chicken…with a HATCHET the size of China…) feel like he is sitting on my lap drooling down on me like I am his next steak dinner all the while that crazy scary suspenseful “just waiting to hack you“music is blaring in my ear!  NO F’in WAY! I can  tell you all in the blogosphere that shitting my pants in the confines of my living room is terrifying enough, (not only for me but for the people around me that have to witness my major “I Love Me Jacket” moment)  but why would I subject myself to dare the diaper dance in a public place where I have to crawl over some really scared and pissed off people to get the hell out of there after the scene (there is ALWAYS this scene) where body parts, blood, and a random chainsaw get flung out at you WHEN YOU LEAST EXPECT IT!!!!!  Every time that happens I jump like I just got a very large Tetanus shot in the ass, and anything that I had in my hands is immediately flung on to the unsuspecting fool that has the balls to sit in front of me!  BTW…he/she should have known, by the constant nervous tapping on the back of their chair (like I was “that” irritating kid on an airplane) that I was going to be trouble right?  HA!  The frosting on the “crap your pants cake” is the look the person gives you when he or she is shaking the popcorn and Ju Ju B’s out of their hair as you profusely apologize all the while dodging the “colorful” barbs from the people around you that are basically telling your pansy ass to Get the F* Out!  Sheesh…I have NO idea what their problem is…made me think about inventing some type of techno gadget that would display movie subtitles on my ass just for emergencies like this! That TV show Shark Tank had better watch out because this idea is a KEEPER! HA!  Just kidding…so any hoo…if anyone out there thinks that there is a snow ball’s chance in hell that this chick is going to watch that scary ass movie…well you are all sadly mistaken! Let me just say that if I wanted to watch a scary movie, I would just sit back and watch my nightmare of a husband for a while…that shit would scare the pants off of Freddy Krueger…and again…that is saying something…it really is! 

What am I listening to as I rant in this bloggary:  Somebody’s Watching Me, by Rockwell